


secret for a secret, darling

by sunsetozier



Series: without him for far too long [2]
Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Blood, Death, M/M, Violence, also, like will is technically mentioned two or three times but like it doesnt count, prequel i suppose, this is the backstory of the events that are sort of explained in part one, this one is just reddie so im not tagging the stranger things fandom or anything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 22:53:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18678970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunsetozier/pseuds/sunsetozier
Summary: “How much do you remember?”“What?”“From… before,” Richie elaborates. “Like, with… with the other me, you know? The past me, or… or the first me, or whatever. How much do you remember?” Eddie parts his lips, but quickly seals them a second later, slouching back against the sofa and settling his eyes on the TV, looking a little blank. Swallowing thickly, Richie averts his gaze to the wall and tries to backtrack. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question,” he murmurs, bunching up his shoulders in some kind of shrug and wondering if it’d be effective to shove handfuls of popcorn down his throat until he chokes. “I just—”“All of it,” Eddie interrupts, voice hushed. Richie falters and looks to him, seeing that his eyes now appear to be glazed over – whether it’s with memories or tears, Richie isn’t sure, but he just watches, kind of stunned and wary, as Eddie clears his throat and says, “I remember all of it.”-Eddie tells Richie the story of how he fell in love.





	secret for a secret, darling

**Author's Note:**

> you don't like HAVE to read an old heart, a new home before reading this, but like.... some things will make more sense if you do? not a whole lot because i am very intentionally keeping this series vague in order to reveal things in later one shots, but still.
> 
> anyway! this is the backstory of eddie and the previous richie! this took a hot minute to write but i'm pretty fucking proud of it and hope it was worth the wait lmao.
> 
> PLEASE DONT YELL AT ME FOR HISTORICAL INACCURACIES I TRIED MY BEST AND DID RESEARCH AND ITS JUST A FUCKIN FANFIC WHO CARES IF IT ISNT COMPLETELY ACCURATE LET ME LIVE

**_now_ **

**_-_ **

 

            Magic lessons, as Richie has so fondly started calling them, are kind of a win-lose situation.

            On one hand, he’s slowly learning more and more about this hidden world that he knew nothing about two months prior, and it’s absolutely fascinating. The sort of fascination that a child has for the Harry Potter books, or the sense of wonder a kid feels watching superhero movies. A fascination based on something obviously not real, because how could it be? Except, with this, Richie is seeing these things with his own eyes, is having sit downs with various witches in the building, listening to the shapeshifter babble to him about how certain abilities are more of a hassle than anything else while whoever’s with them nods in agreement, trying his god damn best to follow along when Stan or Eddie go in depth about topics he just doesn’t quite understand.

            He started taking notes, a few weeks ago. They aren’t helping much, and make him feel like he’s back in school, but it gives him a sense of improvement, like he might actually be getting somewhere.

            Today, his lesson isn’t really a lesson, rather a subtle movie watching hangout that is sure to turn into a long talk about how dragons aren’t real but they’re also not _not_ real, which Richie has been kind of silently stewing over since Will murmured it under his breath a few days ago. However, Richie isn’t sure he can take another little magic lecture right now, and instead wants to take a break from that migraine of a topic and focus on something else. Something he has been biting his tongue to stop himself from asking questions about, despite knowing that he has every right to ask those questions.

            Which is why, after making some popcorn and putting on a movie that neither of them are going to pay a lick of attention to, Richie makes sure to speak up before Eddie does, quickly (yet timidly) asking, “How much do you remember?”

            Eddie freezes instantly, his hand poised over the bowl of popcorn and his lashes fluttering once as he blinks in surprise. Slowly, he looks to Richie, and his eyes are unreadable as he asks, “What?”

            “From… before,” Richie elaborates, feeling kind of stupid when he says it. “Like, with… with the other me, you know? The past me, or… or the first me, or whatever. How much do you remember?” Eddie parts his lips, but quickly seals them a second later, slouching back against the sofa and settling his eyes on the TV, looking a little blank. Swallowing thickly, Richie averts his gaze to the wall and tries to backtrack. “Sorry, that’s a stupid question,” he murmurs, bunching up his shoulders in some kind of shrug and wondering if it’d be effective to shove handfuls of popcorn down his throat until he chokes. “I just—”

            “All of it,” Eddie interrupts, voice hushed. Richie falters and looks to him, seeing that his eyes now appear to be glazed over – whether it’s with memories or tears, Richie isn’t sure, but he just watches, kind of stunned and wary, as Eddie clears his throat and says, “I remember all of it.”

            Unsure of how else to respond, Richie softly asks, “You do?”

            And Eddie smiles, a kind of wobbly, uneven smile, as he looks at Richie and nods. “Yeah, I do.” Then, when Richie doesn’t immediately respond, he slowly asks, “Do you want me to tell you about it?”

            “About… us?” Richie clarifies, kind of afraid to use that word. They haven’t spoken a whole lot about this outside of that one dinner at the diner, when Eddie showed him a little flash of a vision, but it’s a topic that has been hovering over them for the past two months, something that they’ve danced around and hinted at but never outright talked about. For Richie, that’s because he still feels… unsure, about this whole thing. Yes, he felt it when Eddie showed him that vision, felt the familiarity and the way his heart thudded and how his very core seemed to resonate with the short moment, but it’s still weird, the idea that he had once been a man that Eddie Kaspbrak was in love with. That he, in this time, is a reincarnation of someone who had brought forth the very curse that resulted in Eddie’s heart frozen in his chest.

            The fact that Eddie’s heart is still stuck makes Richie a little afraid, makes him think that this is all a fluke, that he’s not the one Eddie’s looking for, that he isn’t the one to break the curse, but Stan has assured him that the words were sloppy enough to leave out gender but were specific enough to state that it wasn’t until Eddie found a love that loved him in return. So, until Richie fell in love with him, he would still be immortal, unable to die but not really living, either. Which is… a lot of pressure, to be honest, but he tries not to focus on it too much, tries to just let things run its course and have faith that it’ll work out.

            Somehow, in some way, it’ll work out, because it has to. There’s no other option.

            “About us,” Eddie confirms, nodding again. “Or about me, or about life back then, or about anything at all. Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you. No limits. Everything’s on the table.”

            Richie ponders this for a moment, his curiosity and his wariness battling in his chest. He’d been the one to bring this up, and he does want to know more, of course – wants to know everything, maybe even wants to be shown everything in the same way he had been shown the two of them dancing – but being handed the opportunity on a silver platter, with full capability to say no and push it away… it’s oddly tantalizing, the ability to ignore this a little longer, to live a few more days, weeks or months in ignorance, without the knowledge of just how much happened, of what, exactly, Eddie went through.

            What Eddie went through with him, but not _really_ him.

            Other him. Old him. First him.

            God, it gets more and more confusing the more Richie tries to think about it

            “I want to know,” Richie says decidedly, brows pinched together and teeth absently gnawing on the inside of his lower lip. Flickering his eyes to Eddie, he adds, “About everything, eventually, but for now, I just want to know about… about us. I want to know what happened.”

            “A hell of a lot happened,” Eddie chuckles, but it comes out kind of strained. “Are you sure you want to commit to all of that right now? We could be here a while.”

            But Richie has already made up his mind, and he just nods, draws his legs up to his chest and rests his chin on his knees, arms wrapping around his shins with his hands clasped together. “I’m sure. As long as you’re sure that you wanna tell it all, then I wanna hear it.”

            “Okay,” Eddie says – or, rather, breathes, kind of letting the word go with a gust of air. He tilts his head to the side slightly, takes a moment to consider the right place to begin, and then tells Richie, “Well, I guess the best place to start would be the first time I met you.”

 

 

 

 

**_before_ **

**_-_ **

 

            It was not a serious matter, according to Sonia Kaspbrak, but that did nothing to stop her from insisting that Eddie – who, at the time, went solely by Edward – was dressed to impress and on his best behavior. They weren’t magic folk coming for dinner, no, rather a wealthy family of humans living from a combo of both old money and new. Apparently, they were looking for some kind of investment, some way to build their income with the intention to move up, away from the south, east or west coast in mind, and the Kaspbrak family was known for having a fair bit of investment worthy qualities. Perhaps it was part of the mystery hovering over them, the questions of how, exactly, they came into their wealth, how Edward’s father had died of strange circumstances a handful of years back, how Edward himself seemed to have an eerie sense of importance attached to him, an indescribable shroud of… something more.

            A twenty-three year old man, at the time, was rarely seen to carry himself like Edward did.

            Still, he put on his nicest clothes, made sure he looked his best, and came down to dinner five minutes later than his mother had told him to, just because he got a sick sense of satisfaction when he saw the frustrated twitch of her brow and the way the ends of her lips struggled to remain in a forced smile after he did something to anger her. That satisfaction was ever present when he entered the dining area and saw the way she barely managed to suppress a grimace at his being late, a twisted sort of friendly smile that was easy for him to see through but, to an unfamiliar eye, perhaps still came across as kind. He knew better than to ever think that Sonia Kaspbrak was capable of being kind, but he also knew that she was far too powerful to do anything too outright to anger her. That was why he still obeyed her, for the most part, and only pulled little stunts like this. Petty little actions to make it clear that he wasn’t still living with her because he wanted to. Had he been given the chance, he would have left years ago.

            “Edward,” Sonia said, tone clipped and seething in the subtlest of ways. “Sit down, dear. Our guests are here.” She swept her gaze to an empty seat down the table from her, indication clear as she added, “They have a son about your age. You should introduce yourself, try and make a friend.”

            Putting on a sickly sweet smile matched with a sickly sweet tone, he said, “Of course, Mother,” and followed her eyes to the empty chair, not bothering to look at who was seated next to it as he approached the table and lowered himself into the spot. He had barely even settled into the seat when he felt breath brushing the side of his face, and he turned his head to meet a pair of far too stunning blue eyes looking at him mischievously, leading down the slope of a somewhat large nose and lips quirked up into a strange little half-smirk, half-grin, pale skin dotted in odd freckles and—

            Edward lurched back in shock, stunned by the close proximity of the stranger before him, only to see that smile grow as the man before him hummed, quirked a brow, and asked, “Well, what do you think, Edward? You plan to make a friend out of me?”

            On that night, he met one Richard Tozier, and everything seemed to change.

 

 

 

 

            He didn’t know what it was his mother had offered the Tozier’s to invest in, but they started visiting regularly after that first dinner, inviting Edward and Sonia with them to outings and trying to set up more dinners whenever possible. There was a feeling of necessity to it, like Mr. and Mrs. Tozier weren’t really fond of Sonia – it was obvious in the way they shared looks when his mother wasn’t looking, looks that they seemed ashamed of when they realized Edward saw them, but that they quickly started sharing with him, too, when they realized that he also wasn’t very fond of Miss Kaspbrak.

            But those visits, while pleasant due to the genuinely good company of the Tozier family, became complicated in a way that was very difficult to understand, because Richard was suddenly a constant in his life, someone he saw far more often than he would have ever thought upon meeting him.

            And meeting him had been a task on it’s own, borderline impossible, because the man was capable of going on and on about the simplest of things, asking Edward questions about who he was and the life he lived, only to interrupt himself and change topics at the flip of a hat. He was just… so much, much more than Edward had ever seen in a person before, more alive and animated and energetic. It reminded Edward of being a child, the genuine excitement he had over the bare minimum, the way he rambled to his father for hours upon hours over seemingly pointless and empty thoughts.

            Richard, however, was not childish, even if he had the energy of a child. He was oddly crude, but only quietly – he would lean over and whisper strange things to Edward, strange things with strange meanings, and he would snicker when Edward couldn’t think of a response. In his house, the simplest of expletives resulted in a scolding, having to put up the most appealing front, to draw in magic and non-magic folk. His mother prioritized impressing every single person they met. They had to be perfect, and Edward was so used to having to live up to her impossibly perfect standards, that he forgot other ways of living even existed. Other than being late and toeing at the line of disobedience, he never really bothered to stray from her expectations of him. He never even had a real friend.

            Which is why he was genuinely excited when, during yet another dinner held at the Kaspbrak residence, his mother had turned to him and suggested, “Why don’t you show Richard the rest of the house? The Tozier’s and I have some personal matters to discuss.”

            In reality, Sonia was going to try and convince the Tozier’s to invest more money in whatever magically-conjured scam she had them roped into, but Edward was enthralled by the idea of being alone with this anomaly of a person, the man who clearly enjoyed the reactions he got when he murmured his jokes and his comments into Edward’s ear. And Richard looked excited, too, as he quickly got to his feet, smoothed out his clothes, and gave Edward a crooked sort of grin. “Shall we?”

            “After you,” Edward said, gesturing towards the entryway of the dining area, leading into the ballroom – a costly thing, for sure, and unused thus far, but a room that Sonia seemed proudest of. Only the richest of families had ballrooms as grand as theirs, after all.

            Richard seemed to share that sentiment as he walked to the center of the room, brows raised and a slightly dropped jaw. He spun in a circle, examined the ceiling and the intricacy of the design, marble floors leading down a long corridor – which was Edward’s personal favorite part, as the corridor had nothing of value at the end, only carried on to a few unused bedroom’s, but the corridor itself had a sense of solitude, a place to feel as though one didn’t have eyes on them.

            Perhaps it had something to do with the enchantments Sonia had put on that section of the house, as one of the spare rooms led to one of their hidden spaces meant for him to practice his craft, but Edward didn’t care too much about the reasons. He simply enjoyed the feeling of having a section of this place, as glamorous as it may be, where he could go and be completely alone. Even his own bedroom didn’t have that sort of solitude, seeing as Sonia would either barge in herself or would send someone else to barge in for her without bothering to knock, but that space was all his. No one else ever went there.

            “This is quite the space,” Richard commented, still spinning around in slow circles, taking everything in. He finally stopped when he was facing Edward, and offered him a strange look with a strange glint in his eyes. “I assume the highest class balls are thrown here, correct? The ones that are impossible to be invited to? Where one has to sell their soul just to be allowed inside?”

            “None, actually,” Edward corrected, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling, as well. It was quite a sight, the chandeliers and the painted designs. Had he not lived there and seen it every day, he felt as though he would be in awe at it, as well. When he looked back to Richard, his eyes were trained on Edward in an unfamiliar way, but Edward didn’t acknowledge it, instead just adding, “Not yet, anyway.”

            Richard hummed, something he seemed to do quite a bit, and tore his eyes away from Edward to scan over the room yet again. “Any celebratory events coming up, do you think?”

            But Edward just shook his head and said, “Not usually, no.”

            “Funny how the richest people seem to live the most boring lives,” Richard mused, a spark in his eyes that only served to make Edward confused. He was not given the chance to try and question it, as Richard quickly took a final look at the ballroom before asking, “Where to next on this wonderful tour?”

 

 

 

 

            For a long time, Edward assumed he would always know much more than any human. He was a witch, after all – and not a common one. An Earth witch, capable of fulfilling a trio, of completing the Power of Three, if ever he became lucky enough to find both a Water witch and an Air witch in his lifetime. Edward had the potential to harness more power than a human could ever even conceptualize.

            Yet, when he was around Richard Tozier, he felt weak. He felt inferior, incapable. _Foolish_.

            Richard Tozier was an outlier that he could have never expected to come across.

            “I heard of the saddest thing the other day,” Richard told Edward in a casual tone, after yet again showing up to the Kaspbrak residence with the excuse that he had no other friends to spend his time with and his parents were simply a bore. Edward, always with a book propped on his knee or clutched in his hands – usually a different kind of book, but always a normal piece of well-known literature when Richard was around – simply nodded and kept reading while Richard went on to explain, “There was a man executed by the public four days ago, did you know?” Edward shook his head, frowned slightly, and briefly wondered why Richard would bring up such a topic before dismissing the thought – he was a curiosity, someone who brought up the strangest things for no reason at all. “Well,” Richard went on, a weird little lilt in his tone that seemed inappropriate for a conversation of an executed man, “I heard he had been caught by his wife in bed with another man. Tell me, Edward—” he leaned in close, as he always seemed to do, invading Edward’s space and sporting that strange smile yet again, like he had a secret of his own, much like Edward had, “—do you think he deserved it? Being brought to death for no reason other than to have a beloved that was a man?”

            “You’re quite the glum,” Edward said in place of an answer, leaning away from Richard’s sudden proximity, as he always did when he got so close. “Bringing up a thing such as that.”

            With his smile growing, Richard got to his feet, his hands clasped behind his back as he rounded the table and hovered behind Edward’s seat, leaning down until his mouth was mere inches from Edward’s ear. In a hushed little voice, he said, “Perhaps you’ll have a real answer if I phrase the question differently.” Edward made a noncommittal noise in response, trying to focus his attention on the book in his hands, but the words on the page are lost on him as the core of his very being was attuned to the man behind him, ears straining to hear every word as Richard breathed, “If ever you were to discover that I, someone I hope you consider a dear friend, someone I’d like to think you care for, wished to have a beloved that was a man, would you wish to see me dead? Executed, like that poor man had been?”

            It was the sort of question that was dangerous to ask, offering an implication that many would revolt at the mere sound of. Edward just froze, unsure of how he should respond – if he should respond at all, or if he should let the question hang there until Richard moved on to something else. Then, because he felt it unfit to stay silent, he chose to quip, “I’d hardly call you a dear friend. I haven’t known you long enough for that. A good acquaintance, perhaps.”

            “Oh, it’s not the amount of time that matters, my dear,” Richard chuckled, still so close that Edward could feel the heat of his breath brushing against the curve of his cheek. “I consider you to be quite an extraordinary person, a life long companion, despite our limited time together. But the question still stands, and you have yet to answer.” He got even closer then, until his lips were lightly brushing against Edward’s temple, voice whispered directly into his skin. “Would you want me dead? Yes or no?”

            There was a lapse in silence, where Edward didn’t even try to pretend he was still reading, setting his book on the table before him and resting his hands on top of it, brows furrowed together in thought. He didn’t want to question why Richard was asking such a thing, figuring it was a truth that would have to be uncovered in due time – and it’s not like Edward was safe to say he had no secrets of his own, as just that morning he was wandering the garden out back and using his magic to keep the rose bushes in top health despite their blooming season having already passed. Which was why, after a long moment of consideration, he answered, “No, I wouldn’t want you dead.”

            “Oh?” Richard almost sounded genuinely surprised, but he didn’t move, not closer, and not farther away. Just stayed in place to ask, “And why is that?”

            “You’re a bit like a weed,” Edward mused, leaning forward in his seat and twisting around to meet Richard’s gaze, his eyes now dancing in a way that he usually worked hard to keep quelled. “An annoying bastard, impossible to get rid of, but not that bad to deal with once you get used to it. I honestly think that I’d miss you, if I ended up not having a weed like you around.”

            Richard barked out a laugh, and just like that, the moment was over, their normal conversation flowing as he moved over to the bookshelves lining the library, scanning over the titles and running a fingertip over the spines. Though Edward had to admit that there wasn’t much of a _normal_ between them, or even a standard to expect. Every time the two of them spent time together – the amount of which seemed to be steadily increasing as the weeks turned to months and time just kept on going – something happened that would catch Edward by surprise. He never knew what to expect.

            And, oddly enough, he rather liked the anticipation that came with Richard’s presence.

            Not knowing what to expect was, for once, a welcome change.

 

 

 

 

            It was approximately five and a half months after Edward first met Richard Tozier that something big happened, and it had nothing to do with the two of them.

            Apparently, the Tozier’s had fallen through, Sonia had told Edward over dinner, her voice dripping with anger and venomous intent. She had the same tone of voice that she always got when she was already pondering over forms of revenge, ways to make the other party regret wronging her, even if they hadn’t actually done anything wrong and she was merely overreacting to nothing. Usually, while Edward always got a sour taste in his mouth at the implications of what she hissed out, the threats and the promises and the mumblings of ideas to make them pay, he did nothing to interfere, because he was far too afraid to see what she would do to him if he did. This time, however, Edward found himself holding back vomit as he heard her murmur about how she’d make them all regret it – _including_ their son.

            “You can’t,” Edward interrupted as soon as her threats process in his mind, without really thinking about it, without even meaning to. The words were out there whether he wanted to say them or not, and, suddenly, her icy glare was glued on him, eyes ablaze and jaw clenched. Feeling like a child under her dagger-eyed scowl, he shifted in his seat, averts his own eyes to the table top, and meekly said, “Richard’s done nothing to you. You’re the one who told me to make friends with him, and I don’t believe it’s fair to hurt my friend when he’s not the one to blame.”

            Sonia glowered at him for a long moment, but she seemed to soften a few seconds later, a rather contemplative look crossing her features. Eventually, her lips pulled back in a wide smile, a troubling smile, a look of corruption, of a woman so power hungry – both in the magic world as well as the human world – that she took pleasure from tricking humans into giving her whatever she wanted. More money, a better reputation, even rumors spread behind their backs that they always heard every word of.

            She was a terrifying woman, and Edward liked to say he wasn’t afraid of her, but when she wore an evil grin, he found himself cowering away from where she stood, shaken to his core.

            “You’re right,” she said, voice light and coated in something far too sinister and sickeningly sweet. “I won’t touch the boy, then. He’s done nothing to me.” The way she said it was worrying, but Edward just nodded, hoped that she wasn’t spitting lies, and went to his room for a restless night.

            The next morning, Richard showed up at their front step, looking on the brink of crumbling under the crisp breeze. He wore a smile that looked like a mere ghost of his usual grin, and his hands shook as he let out a chirpy little, “Ah, Edward! Just the person I was hoping to see—”

            “Are you alright?” Edward interrupted, allowing Richard to step into the grand foyer and clicking the door shut behind him. His mother had left before sunrise to go discuss some sort of negotiation for another family of human’s that she was tricking into some kind of deal, her favorite pass time, and whatever staff that they usually had on for cleaning up had been dismissed for the day as soon as Edward saw that his mother was gone, leaving the entirety of the manor empty, save for him and his unexpected guest, who was still shaking despite being brought inside. “Are you cold?”

            “No,” is all Richard said, paired with a little laugh. Edward wasn’t sure if it was an answer to his first question or his second, but he just nodded and waited as Richard gathered his bearings. It took a moment, but then he was taking in a long, slow breath, and when he let it out, he said, “I witnessed the death of my parents last night, a little after sunset.”

            _Oh,_ Edward thought, a pang right in the center of his chest. _Oh, no._

            Again, Richard released a bark of laughter, a strangely hollow sound, as he shook his head. “I joke a lot,” he said, “but I really don’t have a single friend other than you, and I just wanted to be somewhere. Anywhere other than my own house. It feels far too empty, being there by myself.”

            “Of course,” Edward said, quiet and voice wavering. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

            “Nothing for you to apologize for, my dear,” Richard told him, still trying for an abnormal twist of the lips that was supposed to be his regular smile. “You didn’t kill them. No one can tell me what did.”

            And Edward felt the guilt cloud his judgement, the knowledge that his mother had really done it, had killed the people she had disagreed with – not for the first time, but this was the first time that those dying from her magic hit close enough to home for him to feel the consequences in his chest… he couldn’t think straight, couldn’t convince himself what he should do, what he shouldn’t say. He just shook his head, swallowed down a lump in his throat, and hoarsely whispered, “I believe I can, but you won’t like it.”

            A new first happened then, something that had never occurred during their many months of friendship. Richard looked at Edward with a sense of distrust and took a subtle step backwards, putting space between them rather than trying to close it. “What did you just say?”

            “I can do it,” Edward told him, his inhales getting shaky and his exhales not really sounding right. He had already said too much to take it back – he either had to follow through and hope that Richard understood, or he had to stop now and accept the fact that Richard would likely never trust him again based on the little he had already said. The latter was far too hard to grasp, the idea of losing his first real friend much too difficult to allow, leading him to rush out, “I can tell you what killed your parents.”

            There was a long moment where nothing happened, Richard just looking at Edward warily as Edward shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, already starting to regret saying anything at all. Then, just as Edward started trying to recall any sort of spell that could reverse the entirety of the conversation, Richard let out a shaky breath and softly asked, “How?”

            Edward looked over his shoulder, almost expecting to see his mother looming in the doorway, but she was still gone and wouldn’t be home until dinner. Feeling a bit invigorated by both the empty house as well as the genuine curiosity in Richard’s eyes, Edward held out a hand, twisted his lips up into a nervous smile, and said, “I’m afraid there’s a lot to explain in order to answer that, my dear.”

            Perhaps it was the use of a sentimental name, something that Richard had done plenty of times but had never been used on him in return, that made him feel at ease. Perhaps it was the fact that Edward was the only person he had ever felt a genuine connection to. Perhaps it was both of those things, mixed in with the oddity that was a man offering a hand to another man without a hint of discomfort or uncertainty. Whatever it was, Edward could almost feel the trust in the air as Richard quietly murmured, “Okay,” and took Edward’s hand, allowing him to lead them wherever he wanted to go.

            Naturally, he chose the garden, knowing that it would be the easiest place to prove himself. Thankfully, the courtyard was walled in, giving them just as much solitude as they had inside, so Edward didn’t bother dropping Richard’s hand as he guided him to his favorite area of the garden – the rose bushes, still in full bloom despite the fact that they shouldn’t have been. “I did this,” Edward said proudly, his free hand lifting to trail a gentle fingertip across the pedals of the nearest rose.

            “They’re beautiful,” Richard said. “I’m not sure I understand the relevance, though.”

            “You will,” Edward told him simply, with a wistful sort of sigh. An Earth witch, he was, and it was always with the Earth that he felt the most connected, the most grounded and powerful. With the plants, the trees, the garden, he felt truly himself. But he couldn’t get off track here, had to keep his focus on the task at hand. He let out another sigh, this one less dreamy and more dreary, as he said, “Watch,” and took a step back, focusing his eyes on a closed bud lower on the bush. He made sure to point it out, so that Richard would know where to look, and then he summoned his energy and—

            Within seconds, the bud was fully bloomed, brilliantly bright, and stunning to look at. Richard blinked once in shock, lips parting, closing, and parting again. “How…?”

            Edward kneeled, touched the rose gently, and watched as it closed back into a bud at his command. “I did this,” he repeated, making the flower bloom once again. “It’s my magic.”

            “Magic…?” Richard repeated, slow and unsure, a southern drawl to his voice that only came out when he wasn’t bothering to put up his wealthy front in order to come across as fanciful and rich. The rose bloomed again, pedals gently brushing Edward’s fingertips. “What do you mean, magic?”

            Once more, Edward brought the rose to a bud, then made it bloom, just to make it clear that it was happening at his will. That he was the one causing it. “Witchcraft,” he told Richard, deciding that he should approach the subject a bit bluntly, hoping that would make it easier to grasp. “I come from a long line of powerful witches, most of them common, but some of them elemental. I’m an Earth witch. My mother is a general witch, but she’s a strong one, and she doesn’t use her magic for good.”

            Slowly, Richard shook his head, features twisting up. He loosened his hold on Edward’s hand, but didn’t release it fully, though it looked like he was considering it. “That’s not possible.”

            “That’s where your wrong, my love,” Edward hummed, standing up straight and meeting Richard’s gaze straight on, sincerity clear as day in his eyes. “It’s more than possible. It’s real. And, I’m saddened to say, it’s the reason your parents are dead.”

            Richard ripped his hand from Edward’s grasp then, eyes growing dark and angered. “If you tell me that you were the cause of their death, I swear to every holy and unholy thing that I will—”

            “Not me,” Edward cut in, sounding ashamed. “My mother.”

            “Your…” Richard trailed off, his anger dissipating into confusion yet again. “Your mother?”

            Taking a deep breath, Edward nodded, feeling tears prickle the backs of his eyes as he averted his gaze to the rose bush, seeking comfort in the brilliant colors. “She’s a vile woman,” Edward said, voice hushed and thick. “Evil to the core, I swear to you. I fear she may kill me one day, too, and claim that it was an act of mercy and love. Like she did with my father.” He let his eyes flutter shut at that, releasing a shaky breath and brushing away the tear that rolled down his cheek. Now was not the time to mourn his own loss. Straightening his shoulders, Edward opened his eyes again and looked at Richard, who was watching Edward with his features scrunched up in a mix of disbelief, sorrow, and pity. “She was upset,” Edward explained, keeping his voice steady and even. “After your parents backed out of the deal they had set up, she became livid. She was talking about revenge at dinner, and when she mentioned you, I realized just who she was planning to get revenge on. I told her you had done nothing wrong, and she said she would do nothing to hurt you. I had hoped that meant leaving your parents be as well, but I suppose she wasn’t feeling very generous. I shouldn’t be surprised, but—”

            “You knew?” Richard interrupted, voice whispered, sounding hurt and betrayed. “You knew she wanted to hurt my parents? That she wanted to kill them? And you did nothing?”

            “I wanted to,” Edward promised, a hint of desperation in his tone. “Believe me, there’s nothing I want more than to stop her from the horrible things she does, but you don’t understand. If she had been in a worse mood, telling her not to hurt you could have had a detrimental reaction. She’s dangerous, and twisted, and downright sickening, but she’s far too powerful for me to interfere.”

            That did nothing to quell the rage written clear on Richard’s features as he took a step back, scanning over Edward with a look of mild horror. “She may be the killer,” he spoke through gritted teeth, “but if you do nothing to stop her, then you’re just as much a monster as she is.”

            Edward felt his heart drop into his queasy stomach, his lungs aching and his eyes burning. “No,” he tried to protest, but it came out weak as he saw Richard turn his back to Edward, and walk away. He parted his lips to say more, to call for him, beg him to come back and hear him out, but Richard was gone before he had the chance, and all he could manage to choke out was a sob.

 

 

 

 

            It wasn’t for another two weeks that Edward saw Richard again, though it wasn’t for lack of trying. He had realized, shortly after Richard had left, that he had never been given the address of the Tozier house, had only ever seen Richard on fancy outings with their parents or at Edward’s home. He’d never even bothered to ask where Richard lived, how he lived. It was a stifling realization, one that filled him with even more guilt than he already had, the heaviness festering in the center of his chest and pressing against his ribcage painfully. There was nothing he wanted more than to find Richard and pour his heart out to regain his trust, or at least attempt to earn his forgiveness.

            Because they were something unique, Edward had come to realize. Never before had he met a person that was quite as carefully careless as Richard Tozier, who threw caution to the wind but managed to pluck it out of the air whenever it was needed. He could tiptoe around topics and hint at the obvious without making it too blunt, too abundantly clear what the meaning behind his words was. There had never been a human that was quite as baffling and mysterious to Edward, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try his best to make sure this man stayed in his life. And it only made matters worse as the days went by, and Edward’s mind wandered, and Sonia asked him daily if he was feeling alright and all he could manage was a barely there smile and an unconvincing nod. The more he thought, the more he uncovered, and the more he began to think that he was craving more than to have his friend back.

            He knew, quite a long time ago, that he was an abnormal man – in a different way than just his magic life. There was something fundamentally wrong about him, about the way he felt, the way he was, a discomfort whenever Sonia mentioned the general witch that lived near them, a woman by the name of Myra, a woman that Sonia was insistent upon him marrying one day. He could never envision himself with Myra, though – not just because she was a woman who seemed to carry the same evil that his mother wore like a second skin, but because she was… not the kind of person he felt even a hint of anything towards. And the fear of having another catastrophic secret, one that his mother could never know, one that he had yet to even admit to himself, was far too much for him to handle.

            And Richard…

            If ever there were a person who made him want to share his secrets, it was Richard Tozier.

            The attachment had grown, a fondness in his chest and a feeling in his gut and something wonderful planted in the lining of his stomach and growing flowers between his ribs. He was ready to find Richard somehow – a tracking spell, if he had to, though his mother strictly forbid him from using stronger spells outside of him practicing his magic – and to try his absolute best to prove to Richard that he wasn’t a monster, to swear on his life, on everything he had to offer, that he would do anything to fix what had been done. And if Richard never forgave him, that would be okay, because at least he had tried.

            But Richard beat him to it, showing up at his home late at night. He did not knock upon the front door, did not make his presence known to anyone there. He simply walked into the garden, brushed the tips of his fingers upon that same rose bush, and Edward had known.

            “Some might consider this trespassing, Mister Tozier,” Edward said, trying to keep his tone level and somewhat normal as he made his way into the garden, not stepping up beside Richard, rather hovering a few feet away in uncertainty, watching as he froze, fingertips still grazing a single pedal.

            “Most, I believe,” Richard corrected, voice only the slightest bit clipped, otherwise sounding warm and kind – completely opposite of the way he had spoken when he was here last. He turned his head, looking over his shoulder at Edward, and offered a tightlipped smile, the smallest quirk of the lips that only appeared sad when paired with his tired eyes and worn features. “You are not most, my dear.”

            Although the statement sounded kind, Edward found an ache forming within him, a sad smile taking place on his lips. He tried not to sound as pained as he felt when he said, “I’m afraid I wish I was.”

            The look that crossed Richard’s features was devastating, his hand falling to his side as his eyes locked onto Edward’s, brilliant blue’s filled with something unreadable and hard to look at, especially under pale moonlight. Edward almost looked away, but before he could, Richard took the smallest of steps towards him, and in a voice that was thick with a strange concoction of indecipherably confusing emotions, he breathed, “I would never wish something as mundane as _most_ upon you.”

            Edward wasn’t sure how to interpret that, could not read the meaning written into the very core of Richard’s being – the only human who had ever been able to make him feel helpless, but not necessarily in a bad way. He was always on edge, waiting on bated breath, trying to make sense of the nonsensical being that was Richard Tozier, and never quite being able to find an answer.

            Was there even an answer for him to find?

            “Better to be mundane than to be monstrous,” Edward said, hushed and shameful. He averted his gaze to the stone beneath him, feeling the stinging of tears behind his eyes, flinching at the mere memory of Richard calling him a monster, voice venomous and hateful. Inhaling sharply, a bit uneven and sudden, he went on to softly promise, “I would give anything to stop my mother, to go back and prevent her from all the vile acts she’s done, but especially what she did to you, to your family. If I had known, if I could have stopped her, I would have, I swear to you. Being horrendous is her only trait, but being the son of someone so cruel is bound to make me a—”

            “I trust you to know better than to listen to a single thing I say,” Richard interrupted, rather shaky and ridden with guilt as he took two long strides forward, until there was little space between them, the toes of their shoes nearly touching. Gentle fingers curled beneath his chin, lifted his face until their gazes met, and Edward was shocked to find tears shining in Richard’s eyes, too. “I am merely a fool, my love, and that is all I am,” Richard whispered, hoarse and strained. “You can’t trust my words.”

            He thought of moving back, away from Richard’s touch, knowing all too well that his mother was sleeping in the looming structure he called a home behind him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, finding far too much comfort in the single point of contact to even attempt to break it. “Your words are the only words I trust,” he said, quiet in admittance, feeling his lower lip start to tremble. “Every other person I’ve met up until now, magical or not, has done something to betray me of my trust, but not you. Instead, I have betrayed _you_ of _your_ trust, and I want nothing more than to fix it.”

            A small smile played on Richard’s lips, looking a bit sad, a bit gentle, as he shook his head. “I am a fool,” he repeated, even quieter than before, barely breathing the words into existence. “And, like a fool, I let my mourning cloud my judgement, and I said a horrible thing to you. But you, my love… you are no monster, and there is no need for you to fix anything. There is nothing for you to fix.” His Adams apple bobbed as he roughly swallowed, his eyes glimmering with something unreadable as he added, “If anything, I should have realized how lovely you are when you shared such a secret with me. Why would you trust me with that? Had I not cared for you as much as I do, it could have led to disaster. You could have been exposed to the public, and then…” he trailed off, shook his head again. “It was risky.”

            “It was worth the risk in my eyes,” Edward told him simply, as though it were an obvious answer. “I couldn’t lie to you after hearing about your parents passing, knowing that it was my mother who caused it. And if telling you had led to being outed, to being executed, to whatever would have happened if everyone else found out… then I would have been okay with that, because at least my mother would be dying with me. After all she’s done, knowing she can’t hurt another person would have made it okay.”

            “Nothing would make you dying okay,” Richard rasped, brows knotting together and breath trembling as he inhaled deeply. “And nothing would make me believe you are a monster. Especially not a secret as strange and as…” His eyes moved, flickered over to look at the garden around them, a twinkling of awe in his gaze. “As absolutely stunning as this. Even if I don’t yet understand it. And especially—” he looked back to Eddie, something strange in his features, “—since I may have a secret or two of my own.”

            Edward faltered at that, unsure of what to make of it, not wanting to draw conclusions based on an unclear implication. It felt pretty clear, however, with the way Richard was still gently holding Edward’s chin between his pointer finger and his thumb, the strange conversations they’ve had prior to now, the unexplainable way that Edward had felt instantly enamored by his grin. And it was that hope, the little inkling of wanting buried deep in his chest, that inspired Edward to offer Richard a knowing little smile and whisper to him, “Secret for a secret, darling. What do you say?”

            But Richard said nothing at all, only parted his lips, closed them, and let out a long, slow breath through his nose, a flash of determination and fear in his eyes, before the space between them was closed and Edward felt a pair of warm, inviting lips pressed against his own, and everything made sense. It felt obvious, with their mouths slotted together, Richard’s hands cupping Edward’s face as Edward clutched tightly to the sides of Richard’s clothes. The truth was painfully clear.

            Losing a friend was hard.

            Losing him would have been harder.

            Edward smiled into the kiss, and all around them, roses bloomed.

 

 

 

 

            In a sense, things went back to normal, except there had never been a normal to begin with, and things had clearly strayed even farther from whatever would have been considered normal before.

            Half the time, Richard was at his home, and they weren’t much different than they had been prior to everything that had happened. Edward would open a book (though he didn’t bother hiding the spell books he often perused in his free time anymore, even allowed Richard to glance over them in curiosity whenever he asked) and they would talk about something odd, something strange, something that most people would not speak of. They never shared another kiss beneath the roof of the Kaspbrak residence, but they shared many looks, full of meaning and want, but there was nothing more than the same strange lingering touches and sudden closeness that had been present before. Edward was worried, perhaps irrationally so, perhaps not, that anything more would be discovered, that his mother would somehow just know what was happening and would strike at a moment’s notice. What, exactly, she would do, he couldn’t say, but he wasn’t willing to find out. It wasn’t worth the risk.

            The other half of the time, however, they were at Richard’s home, a modest little house that had clearly been made for a family but only housed one person after the death of his parents. He always had a sad look in his eyes when he looked at the closed door leading to his parents room, sometimes seemed to get lost in his head while looking around the house. “They expected me to move out by my next birthday,” Richard informed Edward one day, the two of them sat on opposite sides of the dining table, ankles hooked together. “That’s why they moved here, to grow old together. My older sister is off on the west coast, married to a rich man and expecting a baby. I worked with them, and was only a month or two away from being able to afford a place of my own, when… well, you’re well aware of what happened.”

            “I’m sorry,” Edward had whispered, dreadfully sad. “I am so incredibly sorry.”

            But Richard had only smiled, even if it didn’t reach his eyes, even if it wasn’t really a smile to begin with. “It’s not your fault, my love. You are not your mother, and you are not to blame.”

            At the Tozier house, where they could truly be secluded, could truly be alone, they were more. They kissed, and they talked of softer things, and they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off of one another. Fingers grazed cheekbones, hands resting on knees and elbows, soft palms and warm skin. Richard murmured questions of magic, curiosity and the wholehearted desire to know more about Edward pulling the words from him. Edward hummed lightly, laying back on Richard’s bed and thinking that it must be rather scandalous, to be in such a position – another man laying beside him, playing with the hem of Edward’s sleeve. “Magic isn’t definable,” he said, picking his words carefully as he took Richard’s hand in his own, absently tracing figures against his palm as he spoke. “I’ve lived with it my whole life, have known of it since the day I was born, and even I am ignorant to a majority of the world. For the most part, that is my mother’s fault, as I only learn what she has allowed me to learn, but it’s also in part because of just how much there is to it all. Far too much than to learn in a single lifetime, I believe.”

            “How does anyone learn it all?” Richard questioned, a crease between his brows.

            “Assuming that there is a single being who knows everything, then I’d have to guess that they use more magic to do so,” Edward slowly replied, not much of an answer but the only one he could offer. “I don’t know nearly as much as I wish I did, to be honest with you. If I had it my way, I’d be spending much more time learning more of the magic world, outside of just what I can do. Being in the dark on everything other than my own magic is… infuriating, to say the least.”

            Richard didn’t speak for a long moment, but when he did, he did so with an unsure glint in his eyes, a strange kind of wariness. “You talk a lot of your mother and how she limits you,” he pointed out carefully, cautious and soft. “Why do you let her stop you? I find it hard to believe she has more power than you do, based on the little that you’ve told me.”

            In some sense, Edward could tell it was meant to be an encouraging statement of sorts, but it just sent an icy blast of fear through his veins as he insistently shook his head. “She is heartless,” he said through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, staring blankly up at the ceiling. Richard froze at the empty sound of his voice, eyes settled on Edward as he shakily spoke. “Every single thing she does is fueled by her own selfish need to be stronger, better than everyone else. I know that I’m capable of much more power than I’ve ever even attempted to use before, but it’s been drilled into me that I don’t need to be stronger, because she tells me that she’s all I need. What I know, what I don’t know, is all because of her, and even after I’ve seen her do the most vile of things, she acts as though she is better than me.” He shook his head, choked out some kind of grunt, an attempt at a laugh. “There is nothing I want more than to stop letting her control me,” he admitted, shamefully quiet. “But her control… it’s all I know. There is no doubt in my mind that she’ll do something horrible to me if I ever try to step out of line. She is… she is petrifying. There is nothing in this world that I fear more than her.”

            “Something horrible?” Richard repeated. “What are you afraid she might do?”

            It was terrifying, really, when Edward didn’t hesitate to say, “Send me to an early grave.”

            There was a long moment of silence, where Edward’s words hung in the air like dead weight, hard to process. Then, in a somewhat shaky tone, Richard asked him, “Do you really believe she could do such a thing? Kill her own son? Her only son, at that?”

            But Edward was certain, felt not even the slightest hint of doubt as he solemnly nodded, looking over to meet Richard’s gaze. “If she didn’t kill me, I fear she’d find something even worse than death.”

 

 

 

 

            Sonia noticed, as she always did, that something had changed.

            “You’ve been out of the house a lot recently,” she said simply, not an accusing tone to her voice, but a certain heaviness that made it clear that she was implying more with her common words. He did not offer a response, only quirked a brow at her in silent question before turning his eyes to his great grandmother’s spell book once more, reading over the pages that he had memorized years ago. When he didn’t reply, Sonia huffed out an aggravated breath and told him, “I expect to know why my son has been disappearing during the day! Isn’t that a reasonable question to ask?”

            “If I were a child, perhaps,” Edward said dismissively, flicking to the next page and feeling that familiar smugness and the anxiety battle in his chest. “I’m far too old for you to have worries like that about, Mother. If I choose to spend my time elsewhere, that’s my choice to make.”

            Another huff, and Edward thought that maybe, somehow, that would be the last straw, and she would lash out, and that would just be the end of things. It was bound to happen eventually, but instead, her voice took a sickly sweet tone, sounding almost ominous as she said, “You’re right, sweetie. I’m just worried with who you might be spending all your time with, is all.”

            His gaze flickered up, finding an unnerving glare in her eyes, and he knew, with utmost certainty, that she was already drawing conclusions that he was terrified of her making. Because if that, he found himself slowly lowering the book and carefully telling her, “My time has been spent with someone I love. It’s…” he trailed off, trying to come up with something acceptable, a good lie, before becoming resigned and finishing with, “A girl, one that Richard introduced me to.”

            But Sonia is far too knowledgeable, and her sickly sweet voice paired with a menacing smile as she hummed. “Lying to me is unacceptable. You know that, right? You’ve learned.”

            “I know,” he murmured, feeling his hands start to shake. “That’s why I would never lie.”

            “You would,” she corrected. “And you have, but that’s okay.” Her smile grew, becoming twisted and horrifying. “If you’re lying to me now, I’ll find out the truth. I always do.”

            That night, Edward fled his home and appeared at Richard’s door step in tears, more afraid than he had ever been before, unable to even put into words what he was afraid of. And, as Richard comforted him, he wondered if it would be better to risk it, or if he should let Richard go, for the safety of them both.

            Richard kissed those thoughts away, and Edward awoke the next morning with a determination to find a better way to handle the situation, to make sure his mother never discovered the truth.

            Even if that meant killing her.

 

 

 

 

            “You can’t be serious,” Richard said, wide eyes staring up at Edward in a mixture of shock and mild horror, slowly shaking his head. “Killing your mother? That’s—”

            “An unfortunate necessity, I think,” Edward interrupted, his brows creased together, gaze locked on the wall and mind foggy in thought. The idea had popped up suddenly, terrifyingly, and it hadn’t left since. Telling Richard had been as obvious as breathing, but as soon as the words left his mouth, it dawned on him just what he was considering. But he wasn’t wrong – the only way to really be free from the horrible grasp of Sonia Kaspbrak was to rid the world of her entirely. The world would be better off.

            Richard shook his head again, this time more fervently, even going as far as to jump to his feet and gesture wildly through the air as he exclaimed, “No, that’s _murder!_ Do you understand that? Do you understand how insane you sound? Murdering your mother should never be an option to begin with!”

            As much as Edward wanted to nod along, to agree that yes, it was an insane idea, and yes, it was a horrible thing to do, but it stayed with him, filled his lungs and weighed down his shoulders. He couldn’t shake it away, no matter how hard he tried to. It was because of that, the unfortunate truth of it, that he simply sighed and meekly said, “If you knew all that she’s done, what she’s capable of… If you had experienced even half of the things she has done to me, you would not be against this.”

            For a long moment, Richard didn’t move, his jaw clenching and unclenching. There was a war in his eyes, conflicting emotions visibly battling within his mind, until one side seemed to win and he let out a long, slow breath, lips tugged down in a frown as he lowered himself back on the sofa, their knees brushing together slightly. He seemed cautious to ask, almost afraid, but after a minute of hesitation, he parted his lips and softly pointed out, “You mention her doing horrible things quite a bit, my love, but other than what she did to my parents, I don’t know what it is she’s actually done.”

            “She killed my father,” Edward told him instantly, no hesitation, no wavering voice – just cold, sharp and angry. “When I was younger, still learning the basics of magic, my father wanted me to know everything that he knew, wanted me to understand the magic world and be a part of it, but my mother disagreed. She said it was too dangerous to put those ideas in my head, too dangerous to let me see what was out there, and when my father didn’t back down and insisted that it was what was best for me, she…” he trailed off, swallowing a lump in his throat and blinking up at the ceiling, trying to ignore the tears burning in his eyes. Richard placed a hand on his knee, a gentle gesture, and he managed to finish, “She told me, before I went to bed one night, that I wouldn’t have to worry about my father filling my head with his nonsense anymore, and the next morning, he was dead. Passed in his sleep, that’s what everyone said, what people told me, but I saw the way my mother smiled at his funeral, how smug she looked. She killed him, for no good reason. Just like she killed your parents, and countless others. Far too many innocent beings who crossed paths with her when she was in a bad mood.”

            “You deserve better than her,” Richard murmured to him, a strange lilt to his voice. “But, even with that… how is killing her something you can excuse? Something you can bring yourself to do?”

            Edward blinked once, twice, trying to clear his vision as he looked to Richard, a blank sort of expression on his features that contrasted greatly with the abundance of pain in his eyes. “I want her dead,” he said simply, voice a bit thick with emotion. “You can’t even begin to understand how much she has put me through, the things she has done to me… I can’t deal with it anymore. I’m terrified of her, and if she ever founds out about this, about you…” he shook his head, a tear slipping from his eye. “I don’t want to imagine what she would do to you. I can’t risk it happening. Not to you. I refuse.”

            There was a lapse in silence, where Richard pondered over his response, unsure. Then, sounding a bit shameful, he said, “I can’t stop you, and I can’t… I can’t say that I’m okay with it, but I can say that I understand where you’re coming from. After losing my parents because of her, I have to admit, I wouldn’t be sad to see her go. But actually _killing_ her? How would we even—?"

            “We?” Edward interrupted, stunned.

            Richard nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Yes, we. What, did you think I would let you deal such a thing alone? Even if you don’t want me to, I intend to do my best to help.”

            Instantly, Edward was shaking his head, a look of distress on his features as he looked at Richard in pure devastation and said, “You, my love, are not a killer, and this is not something you should submit yourself to. Most humans never learn of the magic world and know very little of what true evil is like, and allowing you to do this… it would be a direct path to something horrible. You wouldn’t be the same.”

            “I’m fairly certain that I’ve already changed drastically since meeting you,” Richard mused, a slight smile playing on his lips as he leaned forward, until their shoulders were pressed together and their noses brushed. “A killer, no. I doubt I’ll ever be able to be one, not even if the one being killed is someone as vile as your mother, but I know more now than I ever have. I understand, and I get the feeling that letting you do this alone would be a horrible mistake. I won’t kill, no, but I will help you, and I will be here for you, as this will not be easy for anyone involved. And you, while stronger than anyone I have ever met, are not indestructible. That is where I, your secret, loyal lover, will be of assistance.”

            “My secret, loyal lover?” Edward repeated, lips twitching up into a small, amused grin. He shook his head once more, but it was more fond rather than fearful, and he couldn’t help it as he closed the space between them, placing a short, sweet kiss upon the corner of Richard’s mouth. When he pulled back, it was scarce, a mere inch or two of space between them as he huffed out a half-laugh and said, “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I am forever grateful.”

            The smile on Richard’s face was gentle and loving as he leaned his forehead against Edward’s, eyes glimmering. “You didn’t do anything,” he stated simply. “You were honest with me, even when it could have endangered you. You laughed at the things I said, even though I’m well aware that I’m not funny. You were you, my love, and that was more than enough. And now, you’re forever stuck with me.”

            Another laugh escaped Edward, more unsteady as tears gathered in his eyes, and in a voice that wavered with emotion, he murmured a blatant, “Good,” and leaned in once more.

 

 

 

 

            Winter came steadily, first in the crisp wind, then in the dark clouds. It snuck it’s way into the city with incredible stealth, and Edward was surprised when he started having to put on more layers before his trips out to the garden, the leaves coated in a light frost every morning. There was talk of a potential snowstorm brewing overhead, but that kind of weather was rare in the south, so the outcome of actual snowfall was unlikely. If it happened, it wouldn’t occur until closer to mid-winter – January, perhaps. Maybe February, but not any sooner than that. Edward could tell. He always felt it in his blood before it snowed, and there was no sign of that happening any time soon.

            When he told Richard that fact, he had been flabbergasted by the mere prospect, clearly curious and intrigued by Edward being able to feel the weather. “It’s not really weather itself,” Edward had told him. “Weather is more in the realm of an Air witch, but I am connected to the Earth, and I have a sort of heightened sense. I think all witches have it, as general witches are capable of tapping into each element, whereas elemental witches can only reach the full depth of their element until connected with the other two. Which is to say, until I connect with an Air witch and a Water witch, I will only really be able to summon power from the Earth, and can only brush just the top of the other elements.”

            “What about fire?” Richard had asked, that same glint in his gaze that he always got when he was digging further and further into this unfamiliar, magical world. “Fire is an element, is it not?”

            “It is,” Edward answered slowly, carefully, “but fire is a… _destructive_ element, to say the least. Fire witches are rare, and are often feared, as the only known ones have caused immense pain to others. Every witch can tap into fire, just as with the other three elements, but a witch that is connected to fire as I am to the Earth…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “History shows that it’s better to eliminate fire witches before they can eliminate you, but most history is twisted, told incorrectly, so I suppose I shouldn’t say anything for sure. All I can really tell you is that they are rare, and they are dangerous.”

            Apparently satisfied by that response, Richard had merely nodded and let the subject drop.

            Strange, really, how even the simplest of topics still seemed to make Edward think of him.

            On Christmas day, while they were sitting alone at a table meant for twenty, Sonia looked at him with a strange smile and informed him, “This year, we will be hosting a ball.”

            “A ball?” Edward repeated, trying not to sound as unimpressed as he felt. She had been hoping to put their ballroom to use eventually, but Edward had been hoping that the plan to kill her would occur before she had the chance. Their plan was not yet finished, however, and would not be taking place until after the new year, so it seemed as though having a ball was simply inevitable. “What is the ball for?”

            “The end of one year,” Sonia told him, waving a hand through the air with a wistful sigh. “The beginning of the next. New opportunities, new chances. A year, I hope, that will be full of…” she flickered her gaze to him again. He shifted uncomfortably under her stare as she finished, “ _Better_ things.”

            Hoping that his clenched jaw wasn’t too obvious, Edward entertained her and asked, “Such as?”

            She rested her folded over hands on the table top, a sinister sort of smile playing at her lips as she answered, “Better people, better luck. Only good things. Aren’t you excited, Edward?”

            He was not, but he forced a smile and nodded. “Of course I am.”

            “You can invite any friends you would like,” she said, though there was a knowing look in her eyes, clearly aware that there was only one person for him to invite. One person that Edward felt afraid to bring along, unsure of what to make of what was written in her features, but knew that not bringing would only be suspicious. He promised himself to try and come up with some sort of excuse for why Richard would be unable to come when Sonia leaned back in her seat and exclaimed, “It will be extravagant!”

 

 

 

 

            It was New Year’s Eve, 1894, and Edward felt sick.

            Something just didn’t settle right about the whole thing, the celebration, the ball. It had started nearly an hour ago, and nothing suspicious had happened thus far, but he had seen something dark, something intention in his mother’s eyes, even more so than usual. She had something planned for this night, and he knew it. He could feel it. Something big would happen before the ball ended.

            “You’re too tense, my love,” Richard told him, standing an appropriate ways away from him, so as not to draw attention to them. He was leaning back against the wall, dressed much fancier than Edward had ever seen him before, but he could not focus on that. Edward could only focus on the fact that something was wrong and Richard was here and what if something went wrong with him?

            What if Richard being here was all part of the plan? What if his mother figured out what they were doing, knew that they had begun plotting out her demise a little over a month prior?

            Richard settled a hand on Edward’s shoulder, friendly enough to pass in public but intimate enough to draw Edward out of his thoughts. When Edward looked at him, Richard was wearing a slight smile, one eyebrow quirked. “Relax, darling. Everything’s fine.”

            “For now,” Edward murmured under his breath, but he tried to let the tension bleed out of him, his shoulders slumping slightly as he released a long, slow breath. It did little to quell the anxiety stirring in his gut, but he knew that he likely blended in with the crowd better without being so stock still.

            The amount of people who had shown up was shocking, considering the amount of ghastly rumors surrounding the Kaspbrak’s, the whispered ideas of witchcraft that were as absurd as they were accurate. Perhaps they had shown with the hope of witnessing a sign of proof, of being able to find concrete evidence of their theories. What they would do after, Edward didn’t know – execution? Burning down their house? Throwing them in jail? As if any of them were strong enough to be able to maintain control over any of the witches out there. The mere idea was laughable.

            Humans were entertaining, he couldn’t deny that.

            “If she were going to do something,” Richard said, tone soothing, “do you really think she would do it in front of this many people?” Edward huffed out a harsh breath, but he had to admit, Richard had a point. He couldn’t make any sense of what could happen, of what his mother could be planning, had no idea or theory or the vaguest clue, but logic did nothing to ease the way his heart raced in his ears. If anything, trying to combat his worries with logic only seemed to make it worse, and when he tried to breathe in, the breath was short, choppy, and almost painful to release. Richard’s hold on his shoulder tightened, and his voice was much closer to his ear when he softly asked, “Where can we go?”

            Edward looked to his right, finding the corridor leading to spare rooms and solitude, and made his way forward, not bothering to check if Richard was following after him as he weaved through the crowd of dressed up strangers that he didn’t know the names of. He needed to get out of the ball room, away from the watchful eyes of people he had never met, duck out of sight of his mother’s gaze that swept the room proudly. Being in the same space as her was suffocating, his fear of her seeming to grow every passing day, every hour, every single minute that went by. The all consuming terror, the crippling feeling of something being horribly wrong, the uncertainty of the future, of if he would ever be free of her grasp… it was all dawning on him, much too heavy, much too quick. It was hitting him so suddenly that he didn’t even register when he stumbled to the end of the corridor, far from the eyes of the public. He didn’t realize that he wasn’t breathing until loving hands came to rest on his back and upper arm.

            In a gentle, calming voice, Richard told him, “You must breathe, my love. Can you do that for me? Deep breaths, slowly.” Nodding, Edward tried to slow his breathing, pushing aside how painful it was, how much his chest ached and his lungs complained. Richard continued to murmur to him softly, helping him turn around and lean his back against the wall when his legs began to feel shaky, and though Edward’s brain was far too loud to process the words, he felt himself calming as the seconds ticked on. After what must have been at least five minutes, Edward found himself breathing normally again, if not a bit shaky, and he smiled a grateful smile as Richard brushed the pad of his thumb over Edward’s cheekbone and asked, “How are you feeling?”

            “Terrified,” Edward answered honestly, a lump forming in his throat. “Of her, and of everything else. It’s not new, but I just have a feeling that something horrible will happen tonight, and I…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m no clairvoyant, but something in me is certain, and I don’t know what to do.”

            Slowly, Richard nodded, looking thoughtful as he pondered over Edward’s words. Then, with a deep breath, he questioned, “Are you afraid of what might happen, or are you afraid of what might not?”

            It was an odd question, one that Edward didn’t quite understand the meaning off, but one that resonated within him enough to distract him from the rest of his mindless panicking. He did not want to think of odd questions, or strange feelings, or mind numbing uncertainty. No, he did not want that at all, because they were standing at the end of the long, secluded corridor, and music was floating gently through the air, and with Richard looking at him like that, he felt no need to be scared.

            With Richard, he was unstoppable.

            “You should dance with me,” Edward stated, stepping around Richard and holding a hand out to him in invitation. It wasn’t really a question, more a suggestion, but he found himself grinning when Richard huffed out a laugh and nodded his head anyway, taking Edward’s hand and letting him lead the two of them a few paces away from the wall.

            “Do you even know how to dance?” Richard asked him, settling his hands on Edward’s waist as Edward draped his arms around Richard’s shoulders, hands clasping behind his neck. “Because I don’t.”

            Edward tilted his head to the side, hummed lightly, and then decidedly shook his head. “Not particularly,” he answered, starting to sway back and forth in time with the music, “but that’s alright. It’s fairly simple, isn’t it? We don’t have to waltz or anything. We can just… do this.”

            _This_ , being a rhythmic rocking from side to side, occasionally stepping out or forward or back, in a way that must have appeared sloppy but felt natural enough that they kept doing it anyway. Appearance didn’t matter, anyway. In that moment, at the end of the corridor, talking softly of how they wished they could dance in front of everyone else, that they wished the music could have been a bit louder, even sharing light giggles as they attempted to spin one another around – right then and there, they were together, entranced with only each other, completely and utterly in love.

            Eddie still wonders now, as he relays this information carefully to Richie, who has yet to speak up even once since he began talking, if things would have been different, had he noticed the door to the spare room behind them barely ajar, the seething, silent eyes of his mother watching them dance.

 

 

 

 

            Richard Tozier died before sunrise, laying in a heap on the stone in front of the rose bush.

            “You lied to me,” Sonia spit, an accusatory glare settled on her son, who had been frozen in place due to a spell that Sonia had cast on him. There were tears streaming down his face, eyes wide and frantic, desperately hoping for a way to stop what was happening, unable to grasp how he had let it happen to begin with. “I told you, didn’t I? I told you that I always find out the truth!”

            She had, he knew, discovered the truth. She had seen them dance, had seen the brief moment of intimacy they shared, the longing kiss and the gentle sighs before they parted ways and headed back towards the ball with the intentions to act as though they had never even left it. To every other guest, it had been effective, no curious glances being thrown their way, but they had been distinctly unaware of the one person they were the most afraid of seeing them, watching their every move.

            As the ball had come to an end and people began to leave in groups of friends and family, Sonia had, apparently, used some sort of spell to lure Richard outside, and there she knocked him out cold and waited for her son to arrive. For Edward, it had taken far too long to realize what was happening, trying to make sense of why Richard had been by his side one moment and completely gone the next, but he had decided to wait until the rest of the guests filed out in the assumption that Richard had simply been lost in the crowd. Surely, once everyone else was gone, he would be by his side again, grinning wide.

            There was no such luck.

            His mother’s magic mixed with the overwhelming distraction that was the ball had his senses all over the place, and it had taken another ten minutes of searching the inside of the house before he had that feeling in his gut, that little tugging sensation in his mind, alerting him of the fact that someone was in the garden, making him aware that something was, in fact, horribly wrong.

            By the time he had made his way to the garden, knees threatening to give out beneath him, Richard was starting to go pale, and a pool of blood was starting to gather around him. Before he could so much as scream, Sonia had used her magic to keep him still, to keep him from being able to act.

            He was rendered useless, watching the blood drain from the man he loved.

            “Stop it,” he pleaded, hiccups intermingling with his uneven breaths as he struggled against the magic holding him in place. Richard’s chest was barely rising with every inhale and shorter exhale, and he had not reacted to a single thing happening around him. Edward struggled harder, pulling at his arms as if the spell worked like a rope, easy to unravel. “Stop it! He’s going to die!”

            “Then he’ll die,” Sonia sneered, stalking closer to Edward with a terrible glint in her eyes, such blatant disregard for the life fading away at her feet. He had already known what she was capable of, had been well aware that she felt no remorse for the lives she ended, but seeing it so up close, seeing it in regard to the only person he had every truly cared for other than his father… it made him feel more terrified of her than he ever had been before. He felt like a child, cowering under her disapproving stare. “And you will live on,” Sonia continued, voice lowered now due to standing closer to Edward, a shadowy mass of sorts collecting by her hands. “Until you find a true love, one that can love you back, as you should. Until you aren’t plagued by this disease, you shall live. Even if that means—” she brought up her hands, the black mass larger, and pressed them to Edward’s chest, letting the shadow be absorbed into him, his heart slowing to a stop beneath her palms, “—that you must live forever.”

            If ever there was a time where he needed to be stronger, this was it, and yet, he was immobilized, frozen both by magic and terror. He knew what she had just done, could recognize it from the spell books he had read – that was a curse, placed on him by his mother, because she could not allow him to love a man. He wanted to fight back, to shove her away and run to Richard and promise to make this okay, in some way. But all he could manage to do was choke out sobs and pleas, hoping that some part of his mother cared for him enough to end it, to reach into whatever hell-depth level of compassion she may have had and let him go, let him save Richard, who was looking worse and worse by the second, skin getting paler, blood puddle growing larger, almost reaching the lowest leaves of the—

            The rose bush.

            _The garden._

            In his panic, he had completely forgotten where they were, had spaced entirely on the fact that the essence of his power was all around him. On all sides of him was some form of greenery, all connected to the earth, all connected to him, and it was with that stunning realization that his sobbing abruptly came to a stop. Instead, he sucked in a deep breath, swept his gaze around the closest plants, eyes flickering between Richard, the rose bush, his mother, and back again.

            Richard’s breathing was getting weaker. The blood has started to drip off the stone path and seep into the soil. Sonia had a smug smirk on her face, looking far too proud of herself. And Edward, with his fear bubbling into anger, with his worry for Richard turning into motivation, with the feeling of inability twisting into a sudden reminder that he was the stronger witch here – with a newfound urgency, he held his breath, reached out to the garden, grasped onto it with the power within him, and he _pulled._

            From every direction, the garden came to life.

            Branches slithered onto the stone path like snakes, some adorned with beautiful Camellias, some roses, some crepe myrtles, and they wrapped around Sonia’s ankles with a tight grip. Instantly, Sonia was thrown for a loop, kicking at the plant life in confusion and mild horror, and Edward felt, for the first time in his life, truly powerful. The branches continued on, took hold of Sonia by the wrists, the arms, a thorny branch from another rose bush even twisting around her neck and digging in until blood began to seep from the wounds left behind. Now it was Sonia that struggled, looking at him with wide, mortified eyes, and in a voice hoarse from the pressure on her throat, she shouted, “You can’t kill your own mother!”

            “I can,” Edward told her, feeling her magic hold on him start to weaken as the rose bush tightened around her neck, the other branches holding her in place. As he tore first his right arm free, then his left, from the spell keeping him there, he leveled her with a look full of rage, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed down into a hateful glare. He held both of his hands out, halting all the plants in their movements, and he maintained eye contact with her as he grit out, “And I will,” before thrusting his hands apart, squeezing his eyes shut as he did so, knowing that the plants would follow his movements.

            For a moment, there was a agonizing wail, the sound of bones snapping and something tearing, and then there was nothing but the sound of Edward’s panting. Carefully, he opened his eyes, making sure not to look at the mangled mess of his mother as he quickly ducked to Richard’s side, sliding onto his knees in his haste and feeling blood seeping into the fabric of his pants. He rolled Richard onto his back, his stomach in knots, his heart thundering, wishing that he had made it in time, that it wasn’t too late.

            But Richard’s chest did not move, and his eyes did not flutter, and his heart, like Edward’s, did not beat. Despite his efforts, Edward had not been fast enough to save him.

            As he lowered his head, leaning against Richard’s still chest, a sob ripping painfully from the back of his throat, the roses, still in full bloom, started to shrink until they were merely buds once more.

 

 

 

 

**_now_ **

-

 

            A silence settles over the room, Eddie’s words hanging in the heavy air. Richie parted his lips, only to close them a second later, his brows pinching togethers and his eyes shimmering with sudden tears. Eddie is too busy staring down at his lap to realize what’s happening when Richie reaches over and takes one of his hands, voice shaking as he settles on whispering, “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

            “It’s not your fault,” Eddie shrugs, glancing up at Richie with a small, barely-there smile before averting his gaze back down. He lets out a half-assed laugh and shakes his head. “Like, not even a little bit your fault. It was a different you, from a different lifetime and everything. Not to say that it would be your fault if it were the same you, because it still wouldn’t be, but… there’s no way you could even try and place the blame on yourself here. You have nothing to apologize for.

            Richie tightens his hold on Eddie’s hand, clearing his throat and taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry you went through that,” he clarifies after a moment, speaking a little slow, choosing his words carefully. “It’s not the same, because it’s a different kind of love, but if it was anything like how fucked up I was when I thought Stan died… fuck. I can’t even imagine. It must have been… it must have been hard.”

            It goes quiet again, as Eddie contemplated what he wants to say next. He could say that it’s easier now, because he found Richie, and it’s not the same – Richie is a reincarnation of the Richard Tozier he knew, after all – but it’s still good. He could say that life for him now is a hundred times better than it was then, that he has a real family now, in the people that live in this apartment building, in his fellow witches, the magic beings that he has come to know and love since moving here.

            He could say that it was hard, beyond that of which words can even begin to explain, and that he wouldn’t have survived the heartbreak had he not been given the curse to keep on living.

            But he doesn’t say any of that, rather just sniffs once, tries to ignore the aching in his chest, and offers Richie a wide, more genuine grin as he asks, “Do you actually want to watch a movie now? Because it ended, like, halfway through all of that, and I was actually kind of looking forward to watching this, before you so rudely interrupted me and—”

            _“Rudely interrupted?!”_ Richie repeats incredulously, letting out a loud scoff and using his free hand to gesture at Eddie vaguely. “Oh, as if you weren’t planning on starting up another lesson on- on fuckin’- fuckin’- I don’t know! Fucking potions or something!”

            “Potions are Will’s specialty,” Eddie states matter-of-factly.

            Richie huffs, slumping back against the sofa, but he has a smile of his own, even as he looks at Eddie with a mild hint of concern still lingering in his gaze. He seems to sense that Eddie doesn’t want to talk about it any further, though, as he doesn’t try to bring the subject back, only slouches his shoulders with an overdramatic sigh and says, “Okay, fine. But only if you promise not to turn the movie into another fucking magic lesson! I need a break from that shit before my head explodes or something.”

            “How could I possibly turn Homeward Bound into a magic lesson?” Eddie asks, only mildly sarcastic – he can already think of a few ways, to be honest, but he just bunches his shoulders in a shrug of surrender when Richie levels him with an unimpressed stare. “Alright, fine, I promise.”

            “And hold my hand through it,” Richie adds, brows raising defiantly even as his cheeks flush a faint shade of red. Before Eddie can respond, he hastily explains, “This movie makes me cry, so—”

            “Deal,” Eddie agrees, nodding once with his grin growing. Richie returns the nod with his own, though his looks more timid and borderline shy as he turns his attention to the TV, reaching forward the pluck the remote from the coffee table and starting the movie from the top. The bowl of popcorn, which has gone cold by now but still tastes just fine due to the horrendous amount of butter they had poured on it, settles directly in the middle of them, half of it resting on Richie’s thigh, the other half resting on Eddie’s, keeping it perfectly balanced, and Eddie feels as Richie squeezes his hand once, gently,

            The succulents lining Richie’s kitchen counter bloom little flowers, just barely within their line of sight, and when Richie murmurs, “Stop it, you’re distracting me,” he does so with a smile

**Author's Note:**

> aaaa let me know what you think!! hopefully the next installment of this series won't take nearly as long to write!!
> 
>  **tumblr:** lo-v-ers


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